Today was not a great day to walk. After a few days of soaking rain the ground has turned to marshland and is occasionally impassable except through large puddles. I spent the morning trying desperately not to fall over, slipping and sliding along red clay paths and cursing the rain. I thought about what a difference a few days has brought to the conditions around me - I crossed the Pyrenees in sunshine and now here I was, covered (and I mean covered) in mud, wet, cold and a bit pissed off.
I slid into Viana after what seemed an eternity (having made a largely unsuccessful attempt to clean my pants with a small bush by the side of the road), found a bar and orderd lunch. As I sat there I watched some shaky phone camera footage on the TV. I slowly made out the Spanish on the screen and realised there had been a car bomb in the University of Navarre in Pamplona an hour and a half earlier. I walked through that university 2 days ago. The road runs right through the campus. Suddenly the mud on my pants didn't seem so important. The news said 17 people were dead (well I think it did - my phrasebook dictionary has the words for 'windsurfer' and 'chemical toilet' but not 'dead' or 'injured' - go figure) and I learned later it was because the police arrested two ETA leaders the day before.
We always hear about these things on the news and they always seem a long way away from us. We live under this comforting illusion that we'll be alive for a lot longer yet, but the reality is we don't know how much time we´ll get here. Life is very fragile thing, and I think most of us hold it too cheaply most of the time simply because we don't consider how quickly it can be taken away. A lot of people were worried about my trip, seeing it as a bit risky. All those students did was walk out their front doors.
Today I am very grateful to have a heart that beats, lungs that breathe, arms and legs that work, and eyes to see the beauty of this world. I also want to say thank-you to all of who who take the time to read this blog - that you care enough to be interested in my adventures means more than I can say. And from today onwards I plan to care less about the mud and rain and all the other small, pointless things, and be thankful for each and every day I get here, because it's one more than many people get. Much love to you all xx
Thursday 30 October 2008
the cold muddy road to santiago
I knew my luck couldn't hold...
After 5 weeks of near perfect weather, including a trip over the Pyrenees in picturesque conditions, the rain has arrived. As I was leaving Pamplona for Cizur Menor, the sky darkened suddenly. By the time I arrived at the albergue it was raining and it didn't let up all night. Luckily the snow the woman there predicted didn't come to pass but who knows! Anything's possible. The next morning it was grey but not wet and I thanked my lucky stars and set off for the Alto del Perdon, a ridge that offers spectacular views (in good weather). It was really very beautiful - the fields had been tilled for winter and the clouds were all very dramatic. Along the ridge there was a huge windfarm and I watched the blades spinning as I walked up.
As I got a little further along, the track disintegrated into mud and stones - highly unpleasant to walk on but I figured it still wasn't raining so I shouldn't complain. Then I found out why there was a windfarm on that ridge. By the time I got to the top I was being blown sideways and was using my hiking poles to keep myself upright. It was all I could do to take a quick look around and appreciate that it would have been beautiful without the galeforce wonds before I headed down the other side, hoping desperaely for a bit of shelter. I got it for one kilometre while I trekked down a hideous rocky slippery path. Once I got to the bottom though I discovered the problem with those lovely tilled fields - they offer absolutely no protection from aforementioned winds!
I got to Uterga and had a badly-needed break. I was heading for Lorca and my guide book said it was about 34kms altogether. Well, they'd put in a few detours and deviations thanks to construction and roadworks and when Lorca finally rose up before me I think I'd probably covered more like 38kms. Thankfully the albergue was truly lovely and not at all crowded. There was an American couple that I'd met on the road that day and a Spanish man I'd met the night before, as well as two other ladies. We bought home-made chorizo from a tiny shop and cooked together (and drank too much wine). It was one of the first real pilgrim meals I've had on the road in Spain and I really enjoyed it.
The next day was more of the same really - more rain, more mud, more sliding down hillsides when walking along the road would have been soooo much easier. It was snowing on the mountains nearby and from the biting cold of the rain and the fact that I couldn't feel my nose, I wouldn't have been surprised if it'd started snowing on me! Luckily, my rain gear is all living up to it's expensive reputation and I remain dry and relatively warm (except my nose!). Bad news is... it's forecast to rain for at least the next 5 days. DAMMIT!
After 5 weeks of near perfect weather, including a trip over the Pyrenees in picturesque conditions, the rain has arrived. As I was leaving Pamplona for Cizur Menor, the sky darkened suddenly. By the time I arrived at the albergue it was raining and it didn't let up all night. Luckily the snow the woman there predicted didn't come to pass but who knows! Anything's possible. The next morning it was grey but not wet and I thanked my lucky stars and set off for the Alto del Perdon, a ridge that offers spectacular views (in good weather). It was really very beautiful - the fields had been tilled for winter and the clouds were all very dramatic. Along the ridge there was a huge windfarm and I watched the blades spinning as I walked up.
As I got a little further along, the track disintegrated into mud and stones - highly unpleasant to walk on but I figured it still wasn't raining so I shouldn't complain. Then I found out why there was a windfarm on that ridge. By the time I got to the top I was being blown sideways and was using my hiking poles to keep myself upright. It was all I could do to take a quick look around and appreciate that it would have been beautiful without the galeforce wonds before I headed down the other side, hoping desperaely for a bit of shelter. I got it for one kilometre while I trekked down a hideous rocky slippery path. Once I got to the bottom though I discovered the problem with those lovely tilled fields - they offer absolutely no protection from aforementioned winds!
I got to Uterga and had a badly-needed break. I was heading for Lorca and my guide book said it was about 34kms altogether. Well, they'd put in a few detours and deviations thanks to construction and roadworks and when Lorca finally rose up before me I think I'd probably covered more like 38kms. Thankfully the albergue was truly lovely and not at all crowded. There was an American couple that I'd met on the road that day and a Spanish man I'd met the night before, as well as two other ladies. We bought home-made chorizo from a tiny shop and cooked together (and drank too much wine). It was one of the first real pilgrim meals I've had on the road in Spain and I really enjoyed it.
The next day was more of the same really - more rain, more mud, more sliding down hillsides when walking along the road would have been soooo much easier. It was snowing on the mountains nearby and from the biting cold of the rain and the fact that I couldn't feel my nose, I wouldn't have been surprised if it'd started snowing on me! Luckily, my rain gear is all living up to it's expensive reputation and I remain dry and relatively warm (except my nose!). Bad news is... it's forecast to rain for at least the next 5 days. DAMMIT!
Monday 27 October 2008
first impressions of Spain
I went through Pamplona today. It's the city where they do the running of the bulls in July. It's gorgeous and wonderfully Spanish. I settled myself in a tapas bar and ordered some food and a glass of local wine. I could easily have stayed there all day. I didn't mind French food, and I loved some of it, but it's clear that Spain and I are going to get along well, gastronomically speaking. It's raining now and the forecast is for snow... yes, snow. We'll wait and see on that one, but it could be a COLD few days. I'm getting used to the new times here - things close at different times to France and most of the albegues lock the doors at 10pm. Since dinner doesn't start here until 8:30 that might be a problem if I go out!
My Spanish is improving (from zero to a few words classifies as an improvement) and it's great fun to try out things I learn. I guess the only way is up, since I'm totally crap now.
Alright, enough blogging, time is running out and I'm out of 1 euro coins!
My Spanish is improving (from zero to a few words classifies as an improvement) and it's great fun to try out things I learn. I guess the only way is up, since I'm totally crap now.
Alright, enough blogging, time is running out and I'm out of 1 euro coins!
Au Revoir France, Hola Espagne!
On Friday afternoon I began my journey up and over the Pyrenees and into Spain. There's a gite 8kms out of St Jean towards Spain and it takes a good chunk of the uphill out of the next journey. I hiked up, feeling the new road ahead - in a way it was like starting all over again, new country, new language, new places, new people. Let's not beat around the bush - the uphill stage to Orisson is hard. After a month hiking I was fine but it's really steep and constant for 2 hours of walking. I cannot imagine how it must be for the pilgrims who start their road at St Jean and do it on their first day. I made it to Orisson about 2:30 and settled in. There was a deck perched on the side of the mountain and we sat there drinking sangria and watching the tiny towns below us as the sun set. Then it got VERY cold. Oh that's right, I'm in the bloody Pyrenees! Dinner was great fun and I woke up extremely excited. I was one of the first out the door and into a perfectly clear morning. I couldn't have asked for a better day - not a cloud, the mist was below us and the sky was already a beautiful deep blue. More uphill, up up up but every step just bought views more spectacular than the last. When the sun came up the light swept across the mountains and burned the sky gold and pink - no words, no photos can capture it. Although, having said that, I took about 50 photos in a matter of 20 minutes, so I did try! It was an amzing high, walking through such a beautiful place, all green rolling hills and studded with rocky outcrops. I met a hunter who'd lived in Bondi in the 60's (that was surreal)and crossed into Spain without realising because there's no real marker. Down through forest paths, kicking through autumn leaves, I realised I'd left France behind and was now embarking on the next stage of my strange road to Santiago.
The abbey of Roncesvalles appeared below me and I cheered. I got my ticket for the dorm and tested out my new Spanish skills by ordering a coffee and a hot chocolate. I kept answering in French and at one point slipped into Japanese. I think the "foreign language" part of my brain has overloaded. I went tothe church which was beautiful, then found Chris and Phillipe at the other bar and kept up my Spanish practice by ordering a beer! At 4pm we made our way down to the old abbey building where the pilgrims sleep. The albergue (pilgrim hostel in Spanish) in Roncesvalles is legendary. It's a huge old building with over a hundred beds lined up. I grabbed a bottom bunk and dashed to the shower in case hot water was limited. JIllian arrived a few hours later and it was lovely to catch up and see her again. A group of us went ot the pilgrim blessing at the church (it was all in Spanish so all I did was stand up and sit down a lot) then headed to the restaurant for dinner. It was 7:45 and dinner was at 8. THe waitress first refused to let us in, then opened the door and demanded the reservation ticket we should have had. I didn't. After an extended argument in French (hey, I can fight back in a foreign language!) she gave us the table and we sat down. Suddnely the food arrived. Not Michelan star quality, but filling and hot and after climbing mountains, that's really all that matters.
The time was returning to winter time that night, so we'd have to wake up earlier to leave with the sun. It was surprisingly quiet in the dorm (not as much snoring as I'd expected) and I woke up early, eager to be off into the next part of my adventure. Stay tuned...
The abbey of Roncesvalles appeared below me and I cheered. I got my ticket for the dorm and tested out my new Spanish skills by ordering a coffee and a hot chocolate. I kept answering in French and at one point slipped into Japanese. I think the "foreign language" part of my brain has overloaded. I went tothe church which was beautiful, then found Chris and Phillipe at the other bar and kept up my Spanish practice by ordering a beer! At 4pm we made our way down to the old abbey building where the pilgrims sleep. The albergue (pilgrim hostel in Spanish) in Roncesvalles is legendary. It's a huge old building with over a hundred beds lined up. I grabbed a bottom bunk and dashed to the shower in case hot water was limited. JIllian arrived a few hours later and it was lovely to catch up and see her again. A group of us went ot the pilgrim blessing at the church (it was all in Spanish so all I did was stand up and sit down a lot) then headed to the restaurant for dinner. It was 7:45 and dinner was at 8. THe waitress first refused to let us in, then opened the door and demanded the reservation ticket we should have had. I didn't. After an extended argument in French (hey, I can fight back in a foreign language!) she gave us the table and we sat down. Suddnely the food arrived. Not Michelan star quality, but filling and hot and after climbing mountains, that's really all that matters.
The time was returning to winter time that night, so we'd have to wake up earlier to leave with the sun. It was surprisingly quiet in the dorm (not as much snoring as I'd expected) and I woke up early, eager to be off into the next part of my adventure. Stay tuned...
the final week in France
I haven`t been able to get on a computer for a while, and as a result the last week and a half are all a bit of a blur! But here's a basic rundown on my final week in France...
So after 3 huge days back to back I made it to Navarrenx and was feeling physically and mentally drained. I'd been walking with the same large group for a while and dinner times had become very loud and raucous. After a long day I needed some peace and quiet (I know that must sound strange - I walk alone all bloody day and I want peace and quiet...strange but true!) So the following day I was booked to stay in the communal gite with the others 20kms away at Aroue but I knew there was a small private gite a little way before. THe sky was grey and it was forecast to rain and, at around 11:30 I came to Bellevue I knew I wasn't going any further. This lovely little farm, set on the hill above the village was so beautiful, with fruit trees and flowers all around. I went in and soon the couple who live there came along and settled me in a little room with a bathroom and kitchen all to myself. I was in heaven. I curled up in the armchair under a blanket (note to self - buy armchair and blanket, best thing ever) when Emil from Norway appeared in the garden outside. He's a lovely man and he was the only person of the group I was happy to share this place with. We had both needed a break and found it at Bellevue. After a quiet dinner and a blissful sleep I went out to have breakfast with the owners and Emil. I got home made bread with four types of home made jam from fruit in their garden. They talked with us and encouraged us to stay until the rain lightened a bit. When we finally set off we both felt absolutely refreshed and filled with the joy of genuine hospitality. Amazing!
We continued on our way to Ostabat and the rain stopped. I climbed up to a summit overlooking the town and the Pyrenees with a tiny chapel on the top. Cold but gorgeous. I reached the farm where we were staying around 2pm and walked in to find the lady watching TV. I seemed to be interrupting her because she installed me very quickly then disappeared. There were no facilities to make tea or coffee so I asked for hot water, but I just didn't feel that welcome sitting in the main room so I sat in the dorm until dinner time. We were joined by a French guy who was re-starting and a german guy, Chris, who'd walked the Vezelay route through France. He'd walked 800kms and met 4 other pilgrims... guess that's where the solitude is! At dinnertime we headed out and sat around the table, waiting. Out came the farmer of the house with a home made apperitif who proceeded to lead us in a few rousing Basque folk songs. It was all quite weird but fun. The food was all made on the farm and it was delicious. Any idea that I was still a vegetarian went right out the window - this meal was meat, followed by meat with a side of meat. I had to check the cheese to see if there was bacon in it or something! More Basque songs, then French ones, a german one, a Spanish Basque one and finally I sang the chorus to "Six White Boomers" as the only Australian tune I could think of at the time (the apperitif was strong). We went to bed full, a bit drunk, and laughing.
The next morning I was up and out early in the beautiful morning mist for my walk to St Jean Pied-a-Port, the border town between France and Spain. It felt like an ending, much more than I expected it to. I got there by lunch time and went up to the gite. I meant ot do some things in town but it all got a bit muddled - the knowledge that I was finishing the French road and beginning the Spanish one was a little overwhelming. THe Pyrenees loomed large wherever I looked and I prayed the good weather would hold until I crossed them. I met Bob again that evening and he, Emil and I went out for a final meal - they were both finishing at St Jean. For the first time, the Spanish road became real for me. Until then Santiago had been a name, an idea, but not quite a reality. Suddenly the fact that I was crossing into another country dawned on me.
The next day I prepared my bag and headed up to Orisson for the night - but that's a story for the Pyrenees post!
So after 3 huge days back to back I made it to Navarrenx and was feeling physically and mentally drained. I'd been walking with the same large group for a while and dinner times had become very loud and raucous. After a long day I needed some peace and quiet (I know that must sound strange - I walk alone all bloody day and I want peace and quiet...strange but true!) So the following day I was booked to stay in the communal gite with the others 20kms away at Aroue but I knew there was a small private gite a little way before. THe sky was grey and it was forecast to rain and, at around 11:30 I came to Bellevue I knew I wasn't going any further. This lovely little farm, set on the hill above the village was so beautiful, with fruit trees and flowers all around. I went in and soon the couple who live there came along and settled me in a little room with a bathroom and kitchen all to myself. I was in heaven. I curled up in the armchair under a blanket (note to self - buy armchair and blanket, best thing ever) when Emil from Norway appeared in the garden outside. He's a lovely man and he was the only person of the group I was happy to share this place with. We had both needed a break and found it at Bellevue. After a quiet dinner and a blissful sleep I went out to have breakfast with the owners and Emil. I got home made bread with four types of home made jam from fruit in their garden. They talked with us and encouraged us to stay until the rain lightened a bit. When we finally set off we both felt absolutely refreshed and filled with the joy of genuine hospitality. Amazing!
We continued on our way to Ostabat and the rain stopped. I climbed up to a summit overlooking the town and the Pyrenees with a tiny chapel on the top. Cold but gorgeous. I reached the farm where we were staying around 2pm and walked in to find the lady watching TV. I seemed to be interrupting her because she installed me very quickly then disappeared. There were no facilities to make tea or coffee so I asked for hot water, but I just didn't feel that welcome sitting in the main room so I sat in the dorm until dinner time. We were joined by a French guy who was re-starting and a german guy, Chris, who'd walked the Vezelay route through France. He'd walked 800kms and met 4 other pilgrims... guess that's where the solitude is! At dinnertime we headed out and sat around the table, waiting. Out came the farmer of the house with a home made apperitif who proceeded to lead us in a few rousing Basque folk songs. It was all quite weird but fun. The food was all made on the farm and it was delicious. Any idea that I was still a vegetarian went right out the window - this meal was meat, followed by meat with a side of meat. I had to check the cheese to see if there was bacon in it or something! More Basque songs, then French ones, a german one, a Spanish Basque one and finally I sang the chorus to "Six White Boomers" as the only Australian tune I could think of at the time (the apperitif was strong). We went to bed full, a bit drunk, and laughing.
The next morning I was up and out early in the beautiful morning mist for my walk to St Jean Pied-a-Port, the border town between France and Spain. It felt like an ending, much more than I expected it to. I got there by lunch time and went up to the gite. I meant ot do some things in town but it all got a bit muddled - the knowledge that I was finishing the French road and beginning the Spanish one was a little overwhelming. THe Pyrenees loomed large wherever I looked and I prayed the good weather would hold until I crossed them. I met Bob again that evening and he, Emil and I went out for a final meal - they were both finishing at St Jean. For the first time, the Spanish road became real for me. Until then Santiago had been a name, an idea, but not quite a reality. Suddenly the fact that I was crossing into another country dawned on me.
The next day I prepared my bag and headed up to Orisson for the night - but that's a story for the Pyrenees post!
Monday 20 October 2008
my new career - interpreter for old German men
My french has significantly improved during my time here and I feel lucky to be able to communicate as well as I can with the people around me. A few people have very little language and it makes life really difficult. I was travelling at the same pace as Eric, an old guy from Finland, who was so lovely but spoke very little french. I often did some translating at the gite about instructions and times, but usually he was ok. The other day I got lost leaving Aire sur L'Adour and I met Olfrid from Germany, who speaks very little English and no french. We were lost together and everntually got back on the route and walked together for most of the day. Nothing was open in the small town we passed at lunch time but Olfrid went into the boulangerie to buy some bread. When I walked in I found the woman trying to explain that the hotel was closed so he couldn't get a coffee. I translated and then he turned to her and said "Café, 2 café. You make?" The woman was a little taken aback because it sounded more like an order than a request, so I asked in my politest french if she could make us some coffee. Meanwhile Olfrid just went behind the counter to a table and sat down. The woman was surprised but agreed and we ended up having a lovely conversation and she was very kind.
We arrived in Arzacq separately and when I went down to pay I found him and his friend Karl and the woman running the gite having a very hard time together. I did what I could in basic english and french and off they went. I was having a snack 20 minutes later when the woman came back and asked me to help. Another old German guy was there and she couldn't get through to him that he needed to break his 20 euro note somewhere because she had no change. Using sign language and props (my shopping) we got there and I started to wonder if I should charge.
Two days later I arrived at the gite boulangerie in Arthez-de-Béarn and met Emmanuel, a french pilgrim who had hurt his leg on the route and was staying at the gite and working with the baker who ran it. I was reading in my dorm when Astrid, a german girl with excellent english but not much french, came upstairs to say that Olfrid was downstaris and needed help. He wanted to get a train from there to Pau, but there's no train station. So, with Astrid doing german to english and me doing english to french so Emmanuel could help us, we worked out a plan for him and sent him off with a note in french explaining what he needed. It was really bizarre, but it's amazing how we find a way to communicate under the most difficult circumstances. So that's a new job possibility for me, anyway... who would have guessed!
We arrived in Arzacq separately and when I went down to pay I found him and his friend Karl and the woman running the gite having a very hard time together. I did what I could in basic english and french and off they went. I was having a snack 20 minutes later when the woman came back and asked me to help. Another old German guy was there and she couldn't get through to him that he needed to break his 20 euro note somewhere because she had no change. Using sign language and props (my shopping) we got there and I started to wonder if I should charge.
Two days later I arrived at the gite boulangerie in Arthez-de-Béarn and met Emmanuel, a french pilgrim who had hurt his leg on the route and was staying at the gite and working with the baker who ran it. I was reading in my dorm when Astrid, a german girl with excellent english but not much french, came upstairs to say that Olfrid was downstaris and needed help. He wanted to get a train from there to Pau, but there's no train station. So, with Astrid doing german to english and me doing english to french so Emmanuel could help us, we worked out a plan for him and sent him off with a note in french explaining what he needed. It was really bizarre, but it's amazing how we find a way to communicate under the most difficult circumstances. So that's a new job possibility for me, anyway... who would have guessed!
the kindness of strangers
I am sitting in a bar in Navarrenx right now after walking almost 100kms in 3 days and having one beer. Bad combination, alcohol after a really long day is stronger than normal! But it's ok, I'm not blogging inder the influence, and I don't think that's illegal anyway...
At the beginning of this trip, I was amazed at the friendliness and hospitality of the people around me, locals and pilgrims alike. There was a real sense of the Camino as an experience that involved everyone around it. But that disappeared for a week or so as I passed from the Massif Central. People seemed to tolerate pilgrims but weren't that happy about us traipsing through their neigbourhood. On occasion there were signs asking us not to stop, etc which I can understand, and maybe in summer whenb 100 pilgrims a day are passing by there house is necessary, but felt decidely unfriendly to me. I swear one family had trained it's dog to follow pilgrims, growling, because that's what it did! But as I've passed into the South-West - Occitane and Basque country - the spirit has changed and I wanted to share some of my wonderful experiences over the last week.
I was walking to Aire sur L'Adour the other day and it'd been a big walk. I was about 4kms away from my destination when I spotted Olaf, a guy from the Netherlands I knew, sitting on the step of a caravan that was parked by the road. I went over to say hello and the woman in the caravan immediately greeted me with a huge smile and the offer of some food. She presented me with a beautiful little sandwich of amazing bread, goat's cheese and ham then asked if I'd like a glass of wine. Now, it was about 1:30 but this is France so I said yes, but a small one. She gave me a big one - small only in Giant's terms. I sat down and we talked about the road and the country nearby. She was a jeweller and she and her husband travelled around to the markets. They were such lovely peple and when Olaf and I headed off we were both so reinvigorated, not just by the food (and wine!) but by the sheer generosity they'd shown to two strangers. We stopped to pick some figs a few minutes later and they drove past in the caravan. They stopped in the middle of the road and handed us half a loaf of bread out the window, so we gave them our figs. And on we went. We arrived in Aire sur L'Adour and were about to cross the bridge when a woman called out to us, wushing us a good walk. She was an ex-pilgrim and when she heard where we were staying that night she said she was going near there and led us to the gite. She gave us tips about the Spanish road and some good places to stay. At the door she bid us good-bye and went on her way. The gite was run by an ex-pilgrim called Jean-Michel. After doing the walk, he bought a house especially to start a gite and he eats breakfast with the pilgrims every single morning. He'd thought of everything and I spent one of the most wonderful, relaxing, tranquil nights so far there.
The next morning, after 3 days of fog and grey skies, the sun rose in a symphony of orange and pink and it felt as if I was starting a whole new stage, refreshed and healed by the kindness of strangers. I couldn't believe that in one afternoon I'd had that many wonderful experiences. But there was one more to come... I was walking through Uzan and it was about lunch time. It was Sunday and everything was shut. As I walked along I saw a sign with a scallop shell and read "Pilgrims, something to eat and drink, help yourselves". I looked into the garden of this house and saw a table with chairs and coffee, tea, cold drinks in an esky and a cake tin. No-one was around the house at all. I went in and had coffee and cake and could see that this person put this stuff out every day, changing the flavour of the cake regularly. Almost more than the other times, I was quite overcome by this experience. It's one thing to be generous to someone we see face to face, and just once. But this person did this for countless nameless, faceless strangers and it meant more than I can describe. That someone cared enough to do that blew me away.
I was thinking about these experiences and what it is to receive kindness. Then when I helped Olfrid with his travel plans (see post "My new career" and we sent him on his way, he took my hand in both of his and just said 'Rosemary, Rosemary' without really looking at me, but I could see how grateful he was for what I'd done. And I realised that I'm a stranger to him, and what I did naturally was also an act of kindness. So I guess it goes both ways.
At the beginning of this trip, I was amazed at the friendliness and hospitality of the people around me, locals and pilgrims alike. There was a real sense of the Camino as an experience that involved everyone around it. But that disappeared for a week or so as I passed from the Massif Central. People seemed to tolerate pilgrims but weren't that happy about us traipsing through their neigbourhood. On occasion there were signs asking us not to stop, etc which I can understand, and maybe in summer whenb 100 pilgrims a day are passing by there house is necessary, but felt decidely unfriendly to me. I swear one family had trained it's dog to follow pilgrims, growling, because that's what it did! But as I've passed into the South-West - Occitane and Basque country - the spirit has changed and I wanted to share some of my wonderful experiences over the last week.
I was walking to Aire sur L'Adour the other day and it'd been a big walk. I was about 4kms away from my destination when I spotted Olaf, a guy from the Netherlands I knew, sitting on the step of a caravan that was parked by the road. I went over to say hello and the woman in the caravan immediately greeted me with a huge smile and the offer of some food. She presented me with a beautiful little sandwich of amazing bread, goat's cheese and ham then asked if I'd like a glass of wine. Now, it was about 1:30 but this is France so I said yes, but a small one. She gave me a big one - small only in Giant's terms. I sat down and we talked about the road and the country nearby. She was a jeweller and she and her husband travelled around to the markets. They were such lovely peple and when Olaf and I headed off we were both so reinvigorated, not just by the food (and wine!) but by the sheer generosity they'd shown to two strangers. We stopped to pick some figs a few minutes later and they drove past in the caravan. They stopped in the middle of the road and handed us half a loaf of bread out the window, so we gave them our figs. And on we went. We arrived in Aire sur L'Adour and were about to cross the bridge when a woman called out to us, wushing us a good walk. She was an ex-pilgrim and when she heard where we were staying that night she said she was going near there and led us to the gite. She gave us tips about the Spanish road and some good places to stay. At the door she bid us good-bye and went on her way. The gite was run by an ex-pilgrim called Jean-Michel. After doing the walk, he bought a house especially to start a gite and he eats breakfast with the pilgrims every single morning. He'd thought of everything and I spent one of the most wonderful, relaxing, tranquil nights so far there.
The next morning, after 3 days of fog and grey skies, the sun rose in a symphony of orange and pink and it felt as if I was starting a whole new stage, refreshed and healed by the kindness of strangers. I couldn't believe that in one afternoon I'd had that many wonderful experiences. But there was one more to come... I was walking through Uzan and it was about lunch time. It was Sunday and everything was shut. As I walked along I saw a sign with a scallop shell and read "Pilgrims, something to eat and drink, help yourselves". I looked into the garden of this house and saw a table with chairs and coffee, tea, cold drinks in an esky and a cake tin. No-one was around the house at all. I went in and had coffee and cake and could see that this person put this stuff out every day, changing the flavour of the cake regularly. Almost more than the other times, I was quite overcome by this experience. It's one thing to be generous to someone we see face to face, and just once. But this person did this for countless nameless, faceless strangers and it meant more than I can describe. That someone cared enough to do that blew me away.
I was thinking about these experiences and what it is to receive kindness. Then when I helped Olfrid with his travel plans (see post "My new career" and we sent him on his way, he took my hand in both of his and just said 'Rosemary, Rosemary' without really looking at me, but I could see how grateful he was for what I'd done. And I realised that I'm a stranger to him, and what I did naturally was also an act of kindness. So I guess it goes both ways.
Friday 17 October 2008
a very long day, followed by a very un-pilgrim afternoon
After leaving Moissac, we headed to Saint Antoine, a town notable only for being really really tiny and in the middle of bloody nowhere. We cooked together (mushroom risotto, yum) and slept well. I woke up the next morning feeling a little flat. Didn't know why, but I just didn't have a lot of energy. I headed out for a supposedly easy day of 24kms to Lectoure. I took a break or a coffee after about 8kms because my legs were sore and didn't seem to be warming up. I thought a break would help - I was wrong. After that everything just went from bad to worse. I'd gotten about 50 metres away from the cafe when one of my legs started getting a shooting pain with every step. After limping along gingerly for awhile that went away and was replaced by a general, totally-consuming and awful fatigue. Not the "I've walked a really long way today" kind, but the "where the hell did this come from and how the hell am I going to make it through the next 15kms?" kind. It was like walking through wet concrete - every step was a supreme act of strength and willpower and for the first time this trip I felt worried about being able to complete the distance. As I racked my brain for a reason, I hit upon a very likely candidate - put simply, too much coffee, sugar and baguette for my normally super-healthy self to handle. Unfortunately in France, all thre of these things are way too easy to over-indulge in. Also, they taste really good... pain au chocolat,mmmmm. But clearly I was paying for it now.
After what seemed an eternity I crossed a highway and saw Lectoure, on the other side of a great hulking valley about 4kms away. Dammit! I trekked on, dragging my sorry little self along country lanes and paths and finally, finally reached L'etoile Occitane, my gite for the night. The whole place was a little bit like the movie Amelie - cute and playful and frankly after my day, the best thing I'd ever seen. I'd seen a poster for the gite earlier on the road and it said there was a jacuzzi/spa across the road. When I asked about it I discovered it was a little more than that. It turns out that Lectoure is a thermal springs town and the thermal pool was right across the street. I immediately booked in for an hour for the unbelievable sum of 5 euros.
A few of us went across together and spent a wonderful hour in the thermal pool, the sauna, the steam room and the spa. I'm guessing the original pilgrims didn't do things like this but who cares about authenticity when there are water jets to pummel sore muscles? When we emerged we were new people - new, extremely happy people.
PS I felt a lot better the next day and have cut down on my intake of the afore-mentioned foods. Bugger. Also, I haven't been bitten by bed bugs yet but others have. I'm hoping my luck holds!
After what seemed an eternity I crossed a highway and saw Lectoure, on the other side of a great hulking valley about 4kms away. Dammit! I trekked on, dragging my sorry little self along country lanes and paths and finally, finally reached L'etoile Occitane, my gite for the night. The whole place was a little bit like the movie Amelie - cute and playful and frankly after my day, the best thing I'd ever seen. I'd seen a poster for the gite earlier on the road and it said there was a jacuzzi/spa across the road. When I asked about it I discovered it was a little more than that. It turns out that Lectoure is a thermal springs town and the thermal pool was right across the street. I immediately booked in for an hour for the unbelievable sum of 5 euros.
A few of us went across together and spent a wonderful hour in the thermal pool, the sauna, the steam room and the spa. I'm guessing the original pilgrims didn't do things like this but who cares about authenticity when there are water jets to pummel sore muscles? When we emerged we were new people - new, extremely happy people.
PS I felt a lot better the next day and have cut down on my intake of the afore-mentioned foods. Bugger. Also, I haven't been bitten by bed bugs yet but others have. I'm hoping my luck holds!
Saturday 11 October 2008
Lovely Lauzerte
I hiked a short day to Lauzerte, a medieval firtified city that perches on top of a hill commanding a perfect view of the country below on all sides. Apparently at night it shines like a lamp. It was a big walk up the hill to the city and I cursed the fact that the short day meant I arrived in town during the two-hour long lunch break when everything shuts. This meant I would have to walk back down the bloody hill to go shopping later. I installed myself in the communal gite (and was unsurprised when I later found out it used to be the aged care home - there were hospital beds with lights above them and it felt like sleeping in a ward) and went through my usual afternoon rituals of getting myself and my clothes clean. I'd walked ahead of the group the day before, so it was lovely to see everyone as they arrived and, as is becoming a habit, we ended up sitting together at a bar/cafe in the gorgeous cobblestoned square. The owner spoke wonderful English and informed us we were sitting at the VIP table. Then he pointed to a sign above us that said Very Important Pilgrims. Always a good sign, I think! Thea ordered a Kir -she'd seen them and heard about them but was keen to try one - and Bob and I ordered a glass of red wine. The owner informed us that a glass was 2 euros and a bottle was 6 so we went for the bottle (hey, we're Australians). The man came back with a HUGE tray filled with liqueur bottles. He'd brought Thea two glasses and various syrups to try and for us he'd brought out a local speciality - red wine with nut syrup. I don't even know if I can get that syrup in Australia but damn I'm going to try. It was fantastic. Even the wine was pilgrim themed - the label was St Jacques. We sat out and talked about everything and anything until the church bells told us it was time to head back for dinner. Using our usual culinery ingenuity Bob, Jillian and I rustled up a minestrone and salad - it's amazing what you can do with packet soup mix.
The next morning I set off into the morning mist and after heaving myself and my pack up the ridge opposite the town, I looked back to see the first rays of sun illuminating the buildings like a torch. I stopped for a moment just to breathe it all in before heading off down the track.
It was only when we reached Moissac that they told us about the bed bug problem at Lauzerte...
The next morning I set off into the morning mist and after heaving myself and my pack up the ridge opposite the town, I looked back to see the first rays of sun illuminating the buildings like a torch. I stopped for a moment just to breathe it all in before heading off down the track.
It was only when we reached Moissac that they told us about the bed bug problem at Lauzerte...
a pilgrim's prayer
the other night when I was staying at Domaine des Mathieux, the owners invited us all to their house for an apperitif. When we had gathered in their living room and been handed a glass of Cahors wine (more robust and fruity than most French wine, I liked it!) one of them handed us each a small slip of paper with this prayer on it. Bob read it aloud for us and of the many pilgrim blessings I've read and heard so far, this was by far the most beautiful. It reminded me that millions of people throughout history have made their way along this road, especially those hundreds of years ago when bandits and starvation were real concerns (I get worried about blisters and the cafes not being open). I thought I'd share it.
A pilgrim's prayer
God,
Invisible pilgrim of the human adventure
and secret presence of each one's life.
Loyal companion of the footpaths
where, often blindly, we make our way.
Give us the necessary inspiration
to start and restart our path.
Dare to believe there is always a way out,
overcome our fear of getting lost.
Attempt, against all hope, to get through the night.
And remind us constantly of the essential truth.
The inner kingdom, the hidden treasure
are revealed only by walking.
Sent to the unknown, answering an innermost call,
they precede us - the pilgrims of all times,
full of faith which moves mountains,
patient and passionate.
We who are on the way today,
obey, like them, the Word...
That pulls us onwards.
Plain words whose truth enlightens along the course of adventure.
Further, onwards, deeper.
Jacques Musset
A pilgrim's prayer
God,
Invisible pilgrim of the human adventure
and secret presence of each one's life.
Loyal companion of the footpaths
where, often blindly, we make our way.
Give us the necessary inspiration
to start and restart our path.
Dare to believe there is always a way out,
overcome our fear of getting lost.
Attempt, against all hope, to get through the night.
And remind us constantly of the essential truth.
The inner kingdom, the hidden treasure
are revealed only by walking.
Sent to the unknown, answering an innermost call,
they precede us - the pilgrims of all times,
full of faith which moves mountains,
patient and passionate.
We who are on the way today,
obey, like them, the Word...
That pulls us onwards.
Plain words whose truth enlightens along the course of adventure.
Further, onwards, deeper.
Jacques Musset
a thing or two about courage
When I first told people I was planning to walk 1600kms across Europe, their reaction (after wondering if I was feeling alright) was often "Wow, that's a really brave thing to do". Now, on the road, when pilgrims who are hiking for maybe 10 or 12 days, often in couples or small groups, hear that I'm going all the way to Santiago on my own, the reaction is much the same. On the road when I pass locals I am often hailed with a cry of "Bon Courage!" which is lovely, but for me this trip has never felt like an act of courage or bravery. I had the idea three and a half years ago when I first heard about it from a director I worked with and I just knew in an instant that it was something I would do. So really I've been on my way to Santiago for a lot longer than two weeks. And I guess there is a certain kind of courage needed to take an idea, or a dream, and bring it to life and make it a reality. It is so easy to say no, or to postpone things to a distant and undefined day in the future that may never come, that we now view someone carrying something through as a thing worthy of respect. So yes, maybe I am courageous. But I recently heard a story about a fellow pilgrim which moved me greatly.
This man grew up in East Germany under the Stasi regime. He was a brilliant young nuclear physicist and became a professor and a researcher at a young age and worked with the county's leading scientists. One day when he was in his early twenties, I think, the Stasi came to him and said "We want you to work for us in our nuclear program. If you refuse, you will never work in this field again". He refused. For the next twenty or thirty years he held down a part-time research position in another field but was never able to progress or get funding, and worked an assortment of odd jobs to earn a living. When the wall fell, he realised that other scientists in his field had moved so far ahead that it was impossible for him to catch up. This year he'll go to Australia to present a paper at a conference - the first time in his life he has beeen invited to do this. Finally, after so many years, his work is being recognised.
He is clearly a brilliant man, and he is humble and friendly and kind. And his life has been harder than I can imagine because he refused to work with a regime he believed was wrong. I am taking two months away from almost all responsibilities to wander through beautiful countryside and meet fascinating people. And people call me courageous.
This man grew up in East Germany under the Stasi regime. He was a brilliant young nuclear physicist and became a professor and a researcher at a young age and worked with the county's leading scientists. One day when he was in his early twenties, I think, the Stasi came to him and said "We want you to work for us in our nuclear program. If you refuse, you will never work in this field again". He refused. For the next twenty or thirty years he held down a part-time research position in another field but was never able to progress or get funding, and worked an assortment of odd jobs to earn a living. When the wall fell, he realised that other scientists in his field had moved so far ahead that it was impossible for him to catch up. This year he'll go to Australia to present a paper at a conference - the first time in his life he has beeen invited to do this. Finally, after so many years, his work is being recognised.
He is clearly a brilliant man, and he is humble and friendly and kind. And his life has been harder than I can imagine because he refused to work with a regime he believed was wrong. I am taking two months away from almost all responsibilities to wander through beautiful countryside and meet fascinating people. And people call me courageous.
Friday 10 October 2008
escape from Cahors
After leaving Cajarc I headed out onto what is known as the Causse, a limestone plateau full of scrubby forest and rocks and not much else. Having been told about this I was expecting a really desolate, bleak landscape, so I was quite pleasantly surprised by the autumn colours and winding paths along flat blocks of rock that led me from Cajarc to Limonge, a distance of about 20kms. I arrived early in Limongne, but on a Sunday, which means nothing is open. The communal gite was a bit spartan and crappy but since there was almost no_one there I got my own room - nice when you don't have to pay an extra 10 euro for it! Having called home for the whole five minutes that my phonecard gave me and being without a book (because they're heavy) I felt a little lost. It's always strange being in a town because it feels like I'm drifting on the edge of their day-to-day reality but without having any point of entry. I was sitting in the cafe/bar in the square (ok I lied, this is France and there's always a place to drink) when I spotted a group of other pilgrims I knew from the road. They joined me for a drink and a chat and suddenly the pilgrim world that I live in everyday was around me again and that lost feeling gave way to a wonderful sense of community that I've never felt anywhere else. Hard to explain but real enough.
After a good night's sleep and the joy of doing a load of washing - people, never take your laundry for granted, it is a thing of beauty and should be treated with reverence at all times, clean clothes are awesome - I headed out into the morning. I had my first off day that day. I just couldn't find the love or the spirit of the road. The scenery was almost exactly the same as the day before but I couldn't enjoy it, and the road was flat for most of the day but the endless kilometres of the Cami Ferrat - an ancient road built by the Romans and therefore totally straight and flat with barely a deviation for 10kms - frustrated me more than I thought possible. It was like walking on a treadmill - every time I rounded a corner or came over a small rise the road ahead looked exactly like the road behind. I kept thinking hours had passed when only minutes had. When I finally got to the gite at Le Pech I was exhausted, but not from the walk. I curled up in my bunk and just shut the world out for awhile. By dinnertime everything was fine, but it was my first lesson that even on the Camino there are dark days.
The following day we had a short day's walk into Cahors, the biggest city I'd been in since beginning the route. the joy I'd searched so hard for the day before was there for the taking and I had a song in my heart and a spring in my step (which, whezn you're lugging a bloody great backpack is quite a feat, let me tell you). The morning was beautiful and as I came over the ridge, Cahors was spread out below me with the river snaking around the town on three sides. As I dropped down the hill into the city I felt the energy change around me. It's always like that when you enter a town, but it was stronger there. There was a lot of traffic and with all the cars and people I had trouble spotting the waymarks that would lead me into town. I almost got sideswiped a few times by drivers racing around corners - partly because they're on the opposite side of the road and it still confuses me, but partly because I was looking around trying to find my way. As I walked across the narrow footpath of the bridge I passed a lot of people. But whereas in the country everyone smiles and says hello, here the city blinkers were on and no-one acknowledged my passing. I sat at a cafe and watched the flow of life around me - just so much more intense than on the road. Everyone was in a hurry, and everything was more important and urgent and there was just so much stuff everywhere. Cahors is a beautiful city but I felt so alien there. I went to the cathedral but it was more of a tourist attraction than a sanctuary. I bought a sandwich and ate it in the square and most people walked by, glancing at my hiker get-up. Then one woman approached me - she'd seen the scallop shell on my bag, the sign of the Camino - she was a former pilgrim. She asked about my journey and with a smile wished me a good journey. I wanted to go to another cafe because it felt way to early to head the 5kms out of town to the gite I was staying at, but the as I passed by each place, I just didn't want to go in. I ended up down by the river, eating my apple and trying not to watch a couple who were really enjoying each others company. I didn't know how to say "Get a room" in French so I politely looked the other way. After that I headed over the bridge and out of town. As I hiked up the cliff I felt the stress and tension melt away. When I reached Domaine des Mathieux and the gite, and was welcomed so warmly by the owner that it felt like meeting family, I wondered at the change 5kms can make. We stayed in gorgeous place and went to the owners place for a drink before we cooked dinner and sat around sharing stories and thoughts. It kind of felt like coming home.
After a good night's sleep and the joy of doing a load of washing - people, never take your laundry for granted, it is a thing of beauty and should be treated with reverence at all times, clean clothes are awesome - I headed out into the morning. I had my first off day that day. I just couldn't find the love or the spirit of the road. The scenery was almost exactly the same as the day before but I couldn't enjoy it, and the road was flat for most of the day but the endless kilometres of the Cami Ferrat - an ancient road built by the Romans and therefore totally straight and flat with barely a deviation for 10kms - frustrated me more than I thought possible. It was like walking on a treadmill - every time I rounded a corner or came over a small rise the road ahead looked exactly like the road behind. I kept thinking hours had passed when only minutes had. When I finally got to the gite at Le Pech I was exhausted, but not from the walk. I curled up in my bunk and just shut the world out for awhile. By dinnertime everything was fine, but it was my first lesson that even on the Camino there are dark days.
The following day we had a short day's walk into Cahors, the biggest city I'd been in since beginning the route. the joy I'd searched so hard for the day before was there for the taking and I had a song in my heart and a spring in my step (which, whezn you're lugging a bloody great backpack is quite a feat, let me tell you). The morning was beautiful and as I came over the ridge, Cahors was spread out below me with the river snaking around the town on three sides. As I dropped down the hill into the city I felt the energy change around me. It's always like that when you enter a town, but it was stronger there. There was a lot of traffic and with all the cars and people I had trouble spotting the waymarks that would lead me into town. I almost got sideswiped a few times by drivers racing around corners - partly because they're on the opposite side of the road and it still confuses me, but partly because I was looking around trying to find my way. As I walked across the narrow footpath of the bridge I passed a lot of people. But whereas in the country everyone smiles and says hello, here the city blinkers were on and no-one acknowledged my passing. I sat at a cafe and watched the flow of life around me - just so much more intense than on the road. Everyone was in a hurry, and everything was more important and urgent and there was just so much stuff everywhere. Cahors is a beautiful city but I felt so alien there. I went to the cathedral but it was more of a tourist attraction than a sanctuary. I bought a sandwich and ate it in the square and most people walked by, glancing at my hiker get-up. Then one woman approached me - she'd seen the scallop shell on my bag, the sign of the Camino - she was a former pilgrim. She asked about my journey and with a smile wished me a good journey. I wanted to go to another cafe because it felt way to early to head the 5kms out of town to the gite I was staying at, but the as I passed by each place, I just didn't want to go in. I ended up down by the river, eating my apple and trying not to watch a couple who were really enjoying each others company. I didn't know how to say "Get a room" in French so I politely looked the other way. After that I headed over the bridge and out of town. As I hiked up the cliff I felt the stress and tension melt away. When I reached Domaine des Mathieux and the gite, and was welcomed so warmly by the owner that it felt like meeting family, I wondered at the change 5kms can make. We stayed in gorgeous place and went to the owners place for a drink before we cooked dinner and sat around sharing stories and thoughts. It kind of felt like coming home.
Saturday 4 October 2008
Into the second week
I'm in Carjarc now, and tomorrow I take off acros the causse, a limestone plateau with not much on it except pilgrims! It's been a good couple of days - the rain wasn't so tops, but at least I know that my rain gear works well! I spent a day resting in Conques - an incredibly preserved town from a thousand years ago that clings to the mountainside. I stayed in the abbey - it's famous for housing the remains of St Foy, a twelve year-old who was matyred. A monk frm the abbey stole them from another town and brought them to Conques. I thoght thre was something about stealing in the bible... But it was lovely to look out onto the church and i had dinner with everyone who was staying there. We sang an pilgrim's prayer and after dinner we went to a benediction service for our journey. Because i was Australian I had to get up (with a German man and a Belgian girl) and read in the church - luckily they went first and seemed to know what to do! After the service there was some organ music. It was really nice and traditional at first but it was bloody cold in the cathedral and when the monk broke out into "House of the Rising Sun" (I'm not kidding) I decided it was time for bed.
After Conques we spent two grey and rainy days walking through not such picturesque country, but last night we arived at La Cassangole and the nicest Gite so far. Marie-Claud and Jesus have a gorgeous set-up with a beautiful garden and cosy dormitory and kitchen. So good. Today, the ist was so thick I could barely see until about 11am when the sun broke through and the bluest of blue skies came out. The counrty is spectaculat and today was a very happy day. There's a little family of us walking together now. It's brilliant.
After Conques we spent two grey and rainy days walking through not such picturesque country, but last night we arived at La Cassangole and the nicest Gite so far. Marie-Claud and Jesus have a gorgeous set-up with a beautiful garden and cosy dormitory and kitchen. So good. Today, the ist was so thick I could barely see until about 11am when the sun broke through and the bluest of blue skies came out. The counrty is spectaculat and today was a very happy day. There's a little family of us walking together now. It's brilliant.
Things I've learned
1. 1600kms is a REALLY long way. Glad I didn't realise how long before I started or I might have chickened out.
2. Stuff is heavy. Carry less stuff. Leave it out, let it go, it's not worth the pain and suffering it causes to hold on to it.
3. The difference between want and need. I need my toothbrush but I want my shampoo. It's heavy, but clean hair makes me happy. But if it came down to it, I could throw it away without much regret.
4. People are fantastic. From the other pilgrims (who never fail to impress me with their generosity and humour) to the farmers in the field who stop to talk, it's a pleasure to meet so many people from so many places and share a little of their day.
5. Some things can't be put into words. There are many things I've learned, but some just can't be said. So there you are!
2. Stuff is heavy. Carry less stuff. Leave it out, let it go, it's not worth the pain and suffering it causes to hold on to it.
3. The difference between want and need. I need my toothbrush but I want my shampoo. It's heavy, but clean hair makes me happy. But if it came down to it, I could throw it away without much regret.
4. People are fantastic. From the other pilgrims (who never fail to impress me with their generosity and humour) to the farmers in the field who stop to talk, it's a pleasure to meet so many people from so many places and share a little of their day.
5. Some things can't be put into words. There are many things I've learned, but some just can't be said. So there you are!
Signs
I've been thinking a lot about signs lately. I spend most of my day looking for small signs and waymars to point me in the right direction. there are the ones that tell me to turn right or left, ones telling me to kep going straight and also ones to tell me it's the wrong way.
The other day, leaving Le Sauvages through a misty forest, I was getting frustrated at the lack of 'Go straight' signs. They're wonderfully comforting because we all like to know that we're on the right road. but this morning there were so few- I'd walk for ages without seing a single one and I was geting stressed. Ten I realised someting. True, there weren't always markers when I wanted them, but whenever there was another road there was a 'wrong way' sign on a tree. And at other times there weren't any other roads so if I'd followed the last marker why did I need another one?
We spend a lot of time in life searching for signs - telling us 'yes, this way', or 'no, not this way' and we often ask fr a sign that we've made the right choice, that things wil work out if we go this way. But I don't think that's what signs are for. They're not for reassurance, or to guarantee us a good outcome. They're just there to point the way. If we've followed the last sign properly, and heeded the 'wrong way' signs, and there's no other way, then all we have to do is keep going and trust that we've been directed well.
When I was in the forest I decided t ojust trust the signs and do my job, which was to walk. I found that when I surrendered the need to be reassured, the signs were there when they were needed, and I wasn't led astray. If we're on a path in life, maybe we need to practice endurance and just keep walking, instead of stopping amongst the trees for fear.
The other day, leaving Le Sauvages through a misty forest, I was getting frustrated at the lack of 'Go straight' signs. They're wonderfully comforting because we all like to know that we're on the right road. but this morning there were so few- I'd walk for ages without seing a single one and I was geting stressed. Ten I realised someting. True, there weren't always markers when I wanted them, but whenever there was another road there was a 'wrong way' sign on a tree. And at other times there weren't any other roads so if I'd followed the last marker why did I need another one?
We spend a lot of time in life searching for signs - telling us 'yes, this way', or 'no, not this way' and we often ask fr a sign that we've made the right choice, that things wil work out if we go this way. But I don't think that's what signs are for. They're not for reassurance, or to guarantee us a good outcome. They're just there to point the way. If we've followed the last sign properly, and heeded the 'wrong way' signs, and there's no other way, then all we have to do is keep going and trust that we've been directed well.
When I was in the forest I decided t ojust trust the signs and do my job, which was to walk. I found that when I surrendered the need to be reassured, the signs were there when they were needed, and I wasn't led astray. If we're on a path in life, maybe we need to practice endurance and just keep walking, instead of stopping amongst the trees for fear.
the strange road to Nasbinals
I titled this blog "the strange road to Santiago" after the Paulo Coelho book "The Pilgrimage" which is about this road. Up until the other day, the road had been wonderful, tiring, painful and beuatiful but not strange. That all changed on the way to Nasbinals. It was about a 30+km walk and my feet were pretty sore by this stage. I had picked up a sandwich to take away in a tiny little cafe about 5km out of the last town and was planning to picnic somewhere along the way. I chose Rieutort-d'Aubrac as a good place and plodded on. When i reached the town (tiny, TINY, barely a town) I saw all these people milling around the centre of the village - tat's to say they were standing in the middle of the only road in town. I thought this was kind of weird, but as always I greeted them with a friendly 'bonjour'. Suddenly one of the women ran towards me and said in French "Can I hqve a photo with you?" I was a little surprised but what else do you say but yes? Then another woman who was a little way off screamed "Wait! Wait!" and ran down to join us. So I posed with them, then I was surrounded. People on all sides were calling out questions - "Where are you going? Where did you start today? Where are you from? Are you going to Santiago?" and others were yelling my answers out to those at the back of the pack. A fez people were speaking to me and i had no idea what they were saying, thiking it was a dialect, when I realised they were Spanish as well as some French people. One man could speak English and he finally said "Everyone says we must let you go because you have a long way to go, but we won't forget you". With that and many waves and shouts I walked off out of town, shaking my head with amazement. I realised I was really hungry by that stage (since the picnic had kind of ben forgotten!) and I sat down on the sie of the road to snack. The whole group drove passed me hnking and waving about 2 minutes later. I guessed that I was their pilgrim experience.
I kept on going and finally reached the gorgeous little town of Nasbinals, with strets that spiral around the churc in the centre of town. I found the building where the Gite was and walked in. I looked around and realised I was in small community hall and what do you know but the whole tour group was sitting there at a huge table having lunch. They all broke out into shouts and started clapping and crying "It's Rosemary!" and a chair was pulled out and i was waved over to sit down. I had food coming at me from every direction - amazing home-made stuff, French qnd Sanish - and wine and coffee and everything else in between. A man was filming me with his video camera and others were taking photos while many people just grinned at me. Then came more questions and they were all so lovely and keen to find out about me. turns out they're like a France-Spain friendship group and they do tours in both countries. After about 20 minutes Frederique walked in (a French girl I'd met on the way) and they pulled out a chair for her too. Lunch was clearly over, so they packed up and gave us leftovers and one woman gave me her address in Spain if I go past her town. More kisses and smiles and finally good-byes. It was the strangest day and more wonderful than anything. God bless the Camino!
I kept on going and finally reached the gorgeous little town of Nasbinals, with strets that spiral around the churc in the centre of town. I found the building where the Gite was and walked in. I looked around and realised I was in small community hall and what do you know but the whole tour group was sitting there at a huge table having lunch. They all broke out into shouts and started clapping and crying "It's Rosemary!" and a chair was pulled out and i was waved over to sit down. I had food coming at me from every direction - amazing home-made stuff, French qnd Sanish - and wine and coffee and everything else in between. A man was filming me with his video camera and others were taking photos while many people just grinned at me. Then came more questions and they were all so lovely and keen to find out about me. turns out they're like a France-Spain friendship group and they do tours in both countries. After about 20 minutes Frederique walked in (a French girl I'd met on the way) and they pulled out a chair for her too. Lunch was clearly over, so they packed up and gave us leftovers and one woman gave me her address in Spain if I go past her town. More kisses and smiles and finally good-byes. It was the strangest day and more wonderful than anything. God bless the Camino!
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